


All Wars Are Inherently Uncivil, and Yet We Soldier On

by Deisderium



Series: The First Rule of Book Club [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Book Club, Bucky Barnes Gets a Hug, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, But Mostly POV Outsider, Canon Divergence - Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Much Softer Than Canon, POV Bucky Barnes, POV Outsider, POV Steve Rogers, Resolution Through Talking Not Violence, Wildly Divergent, With minor angst, lots of hugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-20 19:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16562033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deisderium/pseuds/Deisderium
Summary: Life's been pretty good since Bucky moved to a small town, went to therapy, joined a book club, and got together with Steve. Then some asshole frames him for blowing up the UN in Vienna.*Chapter One has major, major spoilers forOrder of the Phoenix.





	1. The Past Is Another Country Until It Isn't

Janelle is not one of nature's runners. She much prefers her bi-weekly yoga class. She runs out of a sense of obligation to her body, but it's the eating-her-broccoli of her workout schedule, so when her phone vibrates in her tiny pocket, it's a good excuse to stop for a break.

Book Club James: What the fucking fuck, Janelle :angry face emoji:

Book Club James: Is Sirius Black fake dead? Does he come back in the next book?

Book Club James: His life is shit and then he dies? Is that really his whole storyline? Am I supposed to get narrative closure from this?

_so I take it u finished order of the phoenix._

Book Club James: Sorry for swearing on your phone.

_it's ok. problem of reading ya as an adult, u identify more with the adults?_

Book Club James: YA?

_young adult. marketing genre for book stores_

Book Club James: He and Lupin are my favorite characters. Just feels like his story wasn't over, just stopped.

Book Club James: I understand that happens in real life. I expect more from fiction.

_bc it's harry's story, not black's. his story's still going._

Janelle's heart rate is slowing. It's June, and even though it's early, it's warm enough that stopping makes her feel humid-sweaty, not running sweaty. She needs to get finished with this torture so she can get ready for work. She thinks for a second; Steve is around more and more often these days, but James mentioned that he's out of town right now.

_i have to go but if u want to get together later & discuss, let me know--dinner @ my place?_

Book Club James: Thank you and yes.

*

Janelle is dicing potatoes and halving Brussels sprouts. She has already stuffed a chicken with lemon and rubbed herbs under the skin, and is going to let the vegetables roast in the rack under the chicken. There are a lot of potatoes and sprouts, because she's seen how James can eat. Usually when she makes this, that's leftovers sorted for the week, but probably not this time. He's bringing bread and dessert.

She gets the chicken and vegetables in the oven and cuts up crudités to have with the hummus she picked up on her way home. She has a British murder show on in the background, but when a chyron scrolls across the bottom about a bombing in Vienna, she switches over to a news station. Apparently, a meeting of the United Nations has been hit by a terrorist. Details are still emerging.

There's a knock at the door, and she invites James in. He catches a glimpse of the tv as he's setting down a bakery box and frowns.

"I can turn that off," Janelle says, looking for the remote. It's by the stove, of course.

"No, actually, do you mind if we watch for a minute?" His eyes narrow as the newscaster mentions that some of the Avengers are there to sign the Sokovia Accords. Janelle has paid much closer attention to superhero shenanigans since she's now friend-of-a-friends with one, so she can talk over the part where they explain that the Accords are about UN oversight for enhanced individuals.

"Oh, shit, James. Is Steve there?" Janelle has a hand over her mouth without meaning to.

"No." He looks away from the screen, catches her eye. "He's in London, actually, at a friend's funeral. He didn't sign those, and he wasn't going to attend the ceremony." He hesitates. "I am going to text him, though. Seems like something he ought to know about."

Janelle gets some snacks on a plate while James texts Steve--what time is it in London? He might wake up to it tomorrow--and pours them both a glass of wine. She brings drinks and snacks to the coffee table and angles the tv so they can see it from there. "We don't actually have to talk books if you'd rather watch the news," she says as he joins her. As Steve's boyfriend, he probably knows some of the people who are possibly in danger in Austria.

"Nah, I'd rather complain about how cheated I feel by the fictional death of a tertiary character to keep my mind off of it." He glances back at the tv. "But could we leave it on? Just in case there are further developments?"

"Of course." She snags a cucumber slice, loads it with hummus, then nudges the plate towards him. "So tell me what bothered you about the book."

"Being deeply overinvested in Sirius Black's redemption arc," he replies promptly, and shoots her a little smile. She smiles back; James has opened up so much over the last year and a half. "I guess with all the stuff with his family and trying to do better for Harry, I expected him to actually get to a better place, not just--" He gestures vaguely with his metal hand. "--whoops, that's the end of it. Unless you can tell me he comes back in a later book."

"Do you really want spoilers?" She takes a bite of her cucumber slice and has to dive after the remaining hummus as it slides off.

"Yeah, I do. Between me and Steve, coming back to life in a later book isn't the craziest thing I've heard."

"Okay. Sorry to tell you, he's really dead. His story's over. Harry's keeps going."

"Rowling really fooled me with his tragic past and miserable present. I thought she was setting up for a happy ending." James's gaze darts to the tv screen, and his mouth twists. Janelle turns automatically.

"Breaking news," a gray-haired white reporter says. "We have just received word that there is a person of interest in the Vienna bombing case." A clip of grainy security footage shows a dark-haired man placing a package inside a van. A…long-haired brunet, hunched over furtively, sleeves pushed up enough to show his…metal arm. "Evidence suggests that this suspect may be connected to the assailant in the 2014 shoot out in Washington, DC, right before Insight Day." Another clip plays: shaky cell phone footage of a very similar-looking dark-haired man with a metal arm…fighting Captain America.

Janelle turns back to James. His face has gone the color of milk. He stares at the tv as though mesmerized.

He told her that he had been James Buchanan Barnes. She tries never to think of him as Bucky Barnes from her history textbook, because a) that way lies madness, and b) she might slip up in front of their other friends. He has a metal prosthetic arm, and he was born in 1918, he supposedly died in 1945, and he showed up at her book club a year and a half ago. Evidence suggests that however he got from a Howling Commando to right now on her couch in 2016 was not a fun ride. But she would never have thought any part of it would have him attacking Steve with a knife like he seriously wanted him dead.

He looks like he's about to throw up. His breath is coming fast and shallow. This, at least, she knows how to deal with. She's spent enough time with her therapist trying to work through her anxiety, and hey. She's got it practically manageable at this point. She wouldn't presume to think that it's anything like whatever trauma James is dealing with, but surely some things are universal.

"Hey, James," she says, "breathe with me. Come on, let's take five deep breaths together." She scoots closer to him on the couch, stops when he flinches, and counts through five breaths. "I can turn the tv off. They're going to keep playing that, but you don't have to watch it."

He lets out a shuddery breath. "I should know--"

"I can put on the radio. Or we could look it up online. You don't have to see it."

He nods, and she stands up to turn off the television. When she turns back, he still looks vampire-pale, but at least he doesn't look like he's about to puke anymore. She sits down next to him and pulls up a news tab on her phone. "You don't have to watch this either."

He has yet to look at her since they showed the first clip. "Aren't you scared?"

"Of you?" She sets a hand on his back, just for a second. His muscles feel like stone, they're so tight. She wishes they were still talking about Harry Potter. Though, yikes, maybe she has a little better idea of why Sirius Black is his favorite character. "I know you weren't in Vienna. There wasn't time for you get back here, even if I thought you did it, which I don't. And…" She bites her lower lip. "I mean. Whatever happened in 2014, you're--you're here now, right? And you and Steve are together and happy, so…he's obviously not holding it against you. So why should I?" Then she remembers what he asked in the first place. "Okay, this is all very weird. But I'm not scared of you. You've been my friend for quite a while, and I just saw less than thirty seconds of…" Of pretty scary shit, actually, but she's not going to say that.

"Of the Winter Soldier." She can hear the capital letters when he says it.

"I don't know who that is." She hopes it's the right thing to say. "You can tell me, if you want, but you don't have to."

"It's not a good…" He bites his lip. "I never wanted that time to catch up with who I am now."

"I'm sorry," she says, because she is. "Why would someone want to frame you for something like this?"

"That's…a good question." He glances at her sidelong. "I did a lot of terrible things. I'm sure I have enemies I don't even know about. In addition to a few I do." She isn't sure what her face is doing. He folds his hands together and does not look at her as he says, "I was experimented on during the war. They were trying to make a supersoldier, like Steve, only it was the Germans while I was a POW. They got me back after I fell off the train, and between them and the Russians…they brainwashed me. Made me do things. They…I don't remember a lot of it. I didn't remember who I was."

"Shit, James." Janelle holds her hand out so he can take it if he wants, or not. After a second, his right hand wraps around hers.

"Stuff like Vienna," he says. "I don't do that anymore. But I did."

Janelle wants to understand, to reconcile her friend with the extremely scary guy with the knives fighting Steve. "What you did, though…it wasn't you? You didn't have a choice."

"I know. But I did it."

She squeezes his hand and stands up. "Okay. Call Steve. I am unequipped to help you with bad guys trying to make you look like a terrorist. That's more his line of work. What I'm equipped to do it pour us both a really big glass of wine and make sure the chicken doesn't burn."

"You're really not…" He frowns. "You don't want me to go?"

"I just told you what I want to happen." Janelle bites her lip. "Look, I'm not going to pretend this isn't a shock, but, James…I knew something bad happened to you." She waves helplessly at his metal arm. "I didn't know how bad, or what exactly, but I knew it was something. And, look, it sucks that you were made to do terrible things, and I can't imagine how you must feel knowing you did them, but it's not your fault. I'd be an asshole if I blamed you."

He looks at her for a second longer, then stands up and hugs her. "Thank you, Janelle," he tells her hair.

She hugs him back. She has the weird feeling of being bigger than him--not physically; he's half a foot taller than her and his muscles have muscles--like she could wrap their friendship around him like a protective arm. "You're welcome."

His phone rings, and they break apart. He looks at the screen. "Guess Steve already heard."

She turns to the kitchen as he answers. "Hey, Steve. Yeah, I saw."

She refills the wineglasses. Steve and Bucky are going to have to handle whatever's happening in Vienna. She's going to try to take care of James.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CA: Civil War! But with more talking and less misunderstandings! Also, Book Club! Thank you to psi-neko (psi_neko) who commented on the first Book Club story that Civil War would have been very different in this 'verse and got me thinking that yeah, a plan based on miscommunication is much more difficult to carry out if the parties in question communicate.
> 
> There are five chapters and I'll post a chapter every other day.


	2. Hit Me Where It Hurts the Most

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky have something to tell Tony; James asks Janelle for a favor.

Bucky is trying to read. He is not finding much success. This is unusual. Part of what he loves so much about reading is falling into someone else's head. These days, it's less that he wants to escape his own, and more enjoyment of figuring out how other people's heads work.

It's not that _The Half-Blood Prince_ is any less enjoyable than earlier books in the series. A little darker, maybe. Fitting for his mood. 

He sets the book down. Steve will be here soon. It's just about the only thing keeping him from disappearing into the night. Only that wouldn't help; he'd miss Steve and Book Club and Dr. Goldstein if he set up a new life somewhere else as someone else. He doesn't want to lose this life he's built for himself. It's his. He made it. He doesn't want to lose it because some asshole is making it look like he blew up the UN. He doesn't do that anymore. 

He abandons his book in favor of starting into space and running possibilities through his head. He is relieved when he hears Steve's key in the lock. He is tired of thinking about all that he could lose.

Steve drops his bag just inside the door, crosses the room in a couple of steps, and wraps his arms around Bucky. The tension he's been carrying in his shoulders melts enough for him to hug Steve back. 

"We'll figure this out, Buck," Steve says, and it's what he needed to hear; a reminder that he is not alone. He doesn't have to face this by himself.

"I didn't do it," Bucky says, because he needs to say it out loud. 

"I know you didn't." Steve's arms tighten around him, crushing him to his chest for an instant before holding him at arm's length so he can look him in the eyes. "There are a few people we need to talk to. The king of Wakanda, for one."

Bucky feels his eyebrows lift. "The...king?" 

"The new king," Steve says. "His father died in the bombing."

"Oh. He thinks I...?"

"Yeah." Steve pulls him in against his chest again. "But he won't. We can prove you weren't there. You've done stuff here, right? You're not trying to live off of the grid. You've made a life here. People leave tracks." 

"I was with Janelle," Bucky mumbles into Steve's collarbones. "We saw the news together." 

"Oh, Buck." One large hand rubs up and down his spine. 

"I knew the past didn't go away." Steve won't care if his voice is tight. Steve can see him vulnerable and weak; maybe Bucky would have tried to hide it, before, when he was the first Bucky Barnes, but here and now, he wants to be open to him. He trusts Steve with his underbelly. "I just wanted--" He just wanted it never to run into the present. He wanted the people he's brought close into him now only to know the person he's built, not the weapon he was. He's always known it was a deeply naïve wish; that didn’t stop him from wanting it.

"It's gonna be okay," Steve promises. "We're going to fix it."

*

Steve has been putting off this call. It's not that the Avengers don't know where he goes between missions; it's just that there are so many reasons they might not want to help Bucky. Natasha is the most obvious candidate to hate him--he did shoot her twice--but actually, she's the most sympathetic to him, aside from Sam, who has a weird kind of friendly-but-antagonistic thing with Bucky where they give each other a lot of shit, but Steve thinks it's 95% affectionate. Bucky hasn't met the kids yet--Wanda and Pietro are still coming to terms with what happened in Sokovia. But Steve thinks Bucky and the kids will take to each other immediately. They've got a lot of experiences in common, and Bucky has a protective steak a mile wide. 

Tony, on the other hand. Tony has also had similar experiences to Bucky's--captured by bad guys, involuntary body modification--but. There's the thing Steve doesn't know, but strongly suspects. He's going to make the call, but he has to ask Bucky first. Bucky's remembered a lot of things, and a lot of them aren't good. He probably can't definitively deny, but he might be able to confirm. 

"I gotta ask you something," Steve says, and Bucky looks up from the book he's not even really pretending to read. His eyes look so wary. Steve comes to sit next to him, but that's not enough to dispel the wariness. Steve loops an arm over his shoulders, pulls him in tight. Bucky comes willingly, a line of warmth against Steve's side, but his muscles feel like his metal arm all over: tense and unyielding. "It's not anything you're going to want to talk about, but I have to know." 

Bucky carefully closes his book with the dust jacket holding his place. "All right, Steve," he says. "Ask away." 

"Do you know what happened to Howard Stark and his wife Maria?" 

Bucky goes somehow even stiffer, which is answer enough, Steve guesses, but he doesn't say anything. Not immediately. 

"The Zola that was in the computer at Lehigh said that Hydra killed him. I looked in the files that Nat leaked. There weren't any about Howard. His death was down as a car accident, even to Hydra, it looked like. But some files were so secret that they didn't make that leak." Steve draws in a breath, pulls Bucky's iron-tight body closer to him. "There weren't any files about you in there either." 

"Yeah." Bucky's voice is so quiet that non-enhanced ears couldn't hear him. Only Steve. He leans forward, head nearly to his knees, his hair a wall between himself and the world; between himself and Steve. Steve digs his thumbs into the knots of muscle around his neck. "I did it." 

"It wasn't you," Steve says. "You didn't have a choice." 

"I know." Bucky is still bent forward, still quiet. "But I did it." 

Steve leans over him, covering his back with his body, presses a kiss to the knob of bone at the base of his neck. He wraps his arms around him as best has he can from this admittedly-awkward position. "I'm asking the Avengers for help. Someone's trying to make it look like you were responsible for the UN bombing, and the only reason I can think someone might do it is to point more attention to you--to draw you out, maybe, or to find the people who might be chasing you. I need to tell Tony what happened. He needs to know so he can have whatever response he's going to have before the shit hits the fan." 

Bucky shudders under Steve, and his arm whirrs softly. "I wish you didn't have to. I wish it had never happened." 

"I know, pal." Steve clutches him tighter, as if one pair of arms, no matter how apt at flinging a shield around, could protect him from all the horrors that life has to offer. "Me, too." 

"I didn't know it was him when I did it," Bucky whispers, "but he knew me. He called me by name. I only knew when I remembered it later." 

"Oh, Buck." Steve kisses his back through his t-shirt, helpless to think of anything that might comfort him. Sometimes words can't help, but lord, he wishes he could think of some that could. 

Then Bucky sits up straighter. Steve sits up too so Bucky won't catch him in the chin with his head. Bucky's face is pale, and his eyes are suspiciously red, but his chin is set and determined. "This won't help with Stark. But maybe it will with the king of Wakanda." He takes Steve's hands, and Steve squeezes them back. "You're going to ask your friends for help. It's a good idea. But what if we also asked mine?" 

*

"I told Tony," Steve says into the phone. 

"How'd that go?" Natasha sounds almost bored, but that's just Nat when she doesn't want to let you know what she's thinking, especially if she's not sure what that is herself.

"Not great. But he's taking time to think about it, and that's all I can ask." Steve chews on his lower lip. "I showed him the file you brought me, too. If he can read that and still think Buck's completely to blame..." He shrugs, even though she won't be able to see it over the phone. 

"It can't hurt," she says. 

"You met T'Challa in Vienna," Steve says. If she's surprised at the change of subject, she doesn't let on. "What kind of a read did you get off him?" 

"He seemed like a fair man, a thoughtful man. Grieving, of course." She hesitates. "And angry. He said he wasn't going to wait for a task force regarding the Winter Soldier." 

"Bucky was with a friend in the US at the time those photos were taken in Vienna." Steve waits, but Nat doesn't say anything. "He thinks she'd be willing to speak up for him. And there's a digital trail--they text a lot." 

"I'm trying hard to picture the Winter Soldier texting," Natasha says. 

"Well, there's your problem." Steve tries to inject a note of levity into his voice, but it's hard. He feels very tired. But it's not Nat's fault. "The Winter Soldier isn't texting. Bucky is. He's built a life here, made friends. I wish someone wasn't trying to take that away." 

There's a sound that Steve thinks is Nat tapping her phone thoughtfully. It's a little annoying, but he's not going to interrupt. After nearly a minute of silence, she says, "If you really think you can get Barnes's friend to corroborate what you say, I think T'Challa would listen. I can come to you and do a preliminary run through with her. Get her timeline." 

"Nat--thank you." 

"I can be there. I'll text you my flight details." 

"I'll pick you up at the airport." 

*

Janelle is tightly wrapped in the warm embrace of her loveseat and the afghan her aunt crocheted her, drinking tea and scrolling absently but also worriedly through the news (nothing new about James that she can find) when her text alert beeps out the first couple of notes of "Hedwig's Theme." 

Book Club James: I have a favor to ask. 

Book Club James: It's a big one. I'll understand if you don't want to. 

_hey friend i am happy to help any way I can_

Book Club James: Would you tell people that I was with you the other day? Maybe let some folks look at your phone logs? I want to prove I wasn't in Vienna.

Book Club James: Or doing any of that shit at all for the last couple of years.

_that's not big at all james_

_i'll do it in a heartbeat_

Book Club James: Could we get together tomorrow? A friend of Steve's is coming into town to help w/this.

_i can leave work early if u need_

Book Club James: Thank you, Janelle. That means a lot. 

_see you tomorrow :heart emoji:_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is less book-related content in the next couple of chapters and more Civil War AU plottiness, but fear not, we'll come back around to books again before the end.


	3. If We Didn’t Help Each Other, Who Would We Help At All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janelle meets some Avengers; Tony works through some stuff.

Janelle dressed carefully that morning, but after a day at work, she isn't feeling as presentable as she could be. She spilled coffee on her shirt and the back fell off one of her earrings, so she's tucked them both into one of the zip pockets of her purse so she doesn't lose them. Also her makeup is smudged, and she forgot to bring anything with her to touch it up, so she's going to meet Steve's friend while not at all at her best. 

Oh, well. Steve's friend is probably a lawyer, right? If they're someone who can help James, that make sense. Janelle's not going to let herself feel intimidated, coffee stain or not. 

She knocks at James's apartment. She's been there before, but not nearly as often as he's been to her place. But she didn't want some random coming to her place, and they didn't want to talk about this anywhere public, so here it is. 

She knocks on the door and waits, taking her slightly clammy hands off her purse strap and wiping them on her skirt. Not even fifteen seconds later, James opens the door. 

He looks like he hasn't been getting a lot of sleep. The shadows under his eyes are more pronounced than the last time she saw him, and the line of his jaw is tense. She doesn't really think about it; she just moves forward and gives him a big hug because he looks like he needs it. 

"Thanks for coming," he tells her hair.

"Of course," she says to his shoulder. James is really tall. They let go, and he waves her into his apartment. It's pretty sparsely decorated, but there are bookshelves everywhere, and she is pleased to note that the stuffed catbus she gave him for Christmas still has pride of place on the armchair. 

"Hi Janelle," Steve calls from the kitchen. He emerges a second later with a mug in each hand, trailed by an absolutely stunning redhead. Janelle is suddenly extremely aware of the coffee stain on her shirt, the sad remains of her eye shadow, and how one of the twists in her hair is coming loose from its barrette, leaving the puff of hair a little lopsided. "This is my friend Natasha Romanova," Steve continues, and the pieces click into place. This is the Black Widow, the Avenger who dumped all the Hydra files onto the internet, regardless of the fact that doing so exposed parts of her own past that she'd doubtless have rather left in the shadows. Janelle admires her a lot. She looks shorter in person than she did on tv in the Senate hearings. A friend of Steve's, James had said. Janelle feels a little betrayed. 

"I'm Janelle," she says, and holds out her hand. "Nice to meet you." 

"Natasha," Natasha says, and gives Janelle an assessing look as she shakes her hand. 

"Can I get you some tea?" Steve says. "And would you like to sit down?" 

"Sure," Janelle says to both, and takes the armchair with the catbus. James smiles at her as the Black Widow--Natasha--takes the seat on the couch nearest her.

"So how do you know James?" 

"I run a monthly book club." Janelle clears her throat. That probably seems pretty pedestrian to someone who backflips into people and strangles them with her thighs on the regular. But then James pulls one of the chairs from the kitchen table to the coffee table and sits down where he can smile at her again, and she straightens her shoulders. It's not kicking the asses of bad guys, but Book Club makes a space once a month for people to talk about ideas and draw a little closer together over books, and that's not nothing. "James saw a flyer for it in the library and asked to join, and we were happy to have him." She returns James's smile. "That was about a year and a half ago. We have an email chain to remind people when the meeting is and what the book is every month. You can have all of those emails if you want. Also my texts from yesterday, when James and I were talking when he was supposedly in Vienna." 

Steve sets a mug of tea down next to Janelle, and she murmurs her thanks. Steve sits down on the couch next to Natasha. 

"Thanks, Janelle. That would be useful." Natasha takes a sip of tea, then stirs in a spoonful of jam. Janelle tries not to stare at this strange behavior. "So when did you find out James was also the Winter Soldier?" 

"Um. Yesterday." She sneaks a glance at James, whose face gives away nothing. "When the Vienna bombing came on the news. He told me about it. I, um. I already knew who he and Steve are." 

One perfect red eyebrow arches up. "By that you mean...?" 

"That Steve is Captain America and James is Sergeant Barnes." It feels really funny to say it out loud. She doesn't talk about it ever. 

"Does anyone else know that?" 

Janelle sips her tea, which is some kind of lemongrass and green tea thing, and looks approximately eighteen shades paler than the tar-black blend in Natasha's mug. "My friend Priya knows that Steve is also Cap. She's never told me anything that makes me think she knows who James is. Nobody else in Book Club has said anything about it, either. They just know James as James." 

"How did you find out that Steve is Captain America and James is...?" She trails off, as though she doesn't want to define what exactly James is. Janelle sets her mug on the table and tries not to bristle. Natasha is here to help.  

"I saw Steve on the news after James brought him to Book Club." Janelle shrugs with one shoulder. "When you were all in Sokovia. I mentioned it to James, and he told me that he was Sergeant Barnes." 

The eyebrow lifts again. Janelle wonders if she's practiced it in the mirror. Then Natasha leads her through a very thorough interrogation regarding the timeline of her friendship with James. Janelle pulls her planner out of her purse and lets Natasha flip through it. It only goes back to the new year, but she can get her old one if Natasha wants that too (Natasha does) and between her emails and text messages, she's able to reconstruct a more accurate picture than if she'd relied on her memory alone. She lets Natasha copy her emails and text chains relating to James. 

James keeps thanking her, and it makes her uncomfortable. "James, it's literally the least I can do," she says.

"We might need you to do more than that," Natasha says. "If we need you to tell other people what you just told us, would you? Under oath?" 

"Of course." She hasn't lied or said anything that didn't happen, so...why not? 

"Do you think anyone else in your club might corroborate what you've said?"

"Yes? They were all there. Priya is probably the person next to me who's hung out with James most outside of our meetings." She glances at James for confirmation, and he nods.

"Good." Natasha nods briskly. "Can I call you? I'll need to get your planner from last year, and I might have some additional questions." 

"Of course." Janelle is glad her skin is dark enough that her slight flush doesn't immediately show. Black Widow can call her any time. "You've got my number." It's in all those texts between her and James. 

Natasha shoots her a tiny smile, just the barest corner of her mouth turning up, then turns her attention to James and Steve. "I've been thinking a lot about who might have set this up and why."

"To draw Buck out into the open and maybe see who follows," Steve says slowly. 

Janelle bites her lip; she hadn't really thought past anything except her friend's distress. 

"So what if we play along?" Natasha leans forward. "You talked to Tony, we get Janelle to talk to T'Challa and clear James's name with Wakanda, then James lets himself be seen somewhere and you give dramatic and obvious chase and we see who comes out of the woodwork."

"It's a good idea," James says, right as Steve says, "No. No way." 

"It's smart." James shrugs, but it's anything but casual. "Good strategy." 

"What if they--" Steve cuts a glance at Janelle, visibly cuts himself off. 

"I should go," Janelle says. 

"That's taken care of," James tells Steve anyway. "Ask Dr. Goldstein. Besides, you'll be there." Steve's eyebrows draw together like thunderclouds gathering on a distant horizon but moving in fast. 

"I'm gonna go," Janelle decides. She stands up and squeezes James's shoulder as she passes. "If you need me..." 

He tilts his head up, away from the incipient argument with Steve, and covers her hand with his flesh hand. "Thanks, Janelle. I will." 

Natasha stands up and walks her to the door as a quiet argument breaks out behind them. "I'll be in touch," Natasha says. "And thanks. On both of their behalves." 

"Y'all don't have to keep thanking me," Janelle says. "All I'm doing is telling the truth. Anyway, James is my friend." She wants to say something along the lines of _and he'd do it for me_ , but the likelihood of her being in any remotely similar situation is vanishingly small. But if she needed him, he'd be there; she doesn't doubt that.

 "He's lucky to have found you," the Black Widow says, and shuts the door on the escalating sound of two large enhanced men vehemently disagreeing with each other.

*

Janelle did not expect to find herself on a plane today.

Janelle did not expect to meet Tony Stark today, either, but here she is, on a private jet, on her way to Europe to repeat everything she said about James yesterday to the king of Wakanda. 

What is her life. 

She was out for her morning jog, headphones in and listening to Zombies, Run! to give her the motivation to get over the big hill by the park, when a sleek black car pulled up at the intersection. The window had rolled down and a vaguely familiar-looking man in a goatee and sunglasses had given her the universal signal for take your earbuds out. She had done so, ready to either provide directions or possibly sprint the fuck the other way while dialing 911. Her phone buzzed against her arm, but she ignored it other than pausing Zombies, Run!

"Janelle Owens?" the man said, and she was already moving backwards, because what the fuck, when he started flapping his hands. "What? No. No! I'm--I'm a friend of Steve's. Sorry! Tony Stark." 

She'd pressed a hand to her chest. "You scared me." 

"Sorry about that," said the genius tech innovator and billionaire who was...bringing his car around to meet her because...why? "It's related to the Barnes situation." He grimaced a little. "Widow, Capsicle, and Terminator said you were willing to help. Got a guy waiting in London who wants to hear it straight from the horse's mouth." 

"Did you just call me a horse?" 

"Guess I did. Are you in? Wheels go up in an hour." He gave her an assessing look. "I can get you back to your place to pick up your stuff and a change of clothes. There's a shower on the plane." 

She glanced at her phone and saw a missed text. 

Unknown Number: :spider emoji: Tony Stark is coming to pick you up. Can you call in to work for a few days to help James? 

Well, that was blatant emotional manipulation, but she wasn't going to say no. She'd already said she would help. 

And so a little over an hour later, she was clean and dressed and in the air on her way to London, an overnight bag next to her and a phone charger that she probably can't actually use once they got there. She's never been to Europe before. She's only ever been to Mexico, and her passport expired a couple of years ago. (Natasha assured her that this wouldn't be a problem, and she's doing her best to just roll with it.) She's called in sick to work--luckily, it's a Friday, and if she has to call in Monday as well, so be it--and is trying not to worry about the fact that she's on a plane with two nervous supersoldiers (doesn't bother her, she's used to them), the Black Widow (terrifyingly competent, terrifyingly hot), and Iron Man (talks really fast, his suit probably costs more than her apartment building). 

She pulls out her phone.

_got called out of town for an emergency for a few days_

_nothing scary! don't fret_

_but if u text & i don't answer don't worry, just busy_

Priya Is The Best: is everything ok????

_i'm fine. fill u in when i get back_

Priya Is The Best: ok woman of mystery

Priya Is The Best: have fun storming the castle

Janelle huffs a quiet laugh and slides her phone off. Four pairs of superhero eyes are watching her when she looks up. 

"This isn't a tell-your-friends kind of trip," Stark says. 

"I know that." Janelle tries not to sound offended that he apparently thinks she's an idiot. She turns to James. "I was just letting Priya know I'll be out of town for a few days so she doesn't worry if she tries to get in touch and I don't answer." 

James nods, because he knows that she and Priya talk all. the. time. and it would raise a jillion red flags if Janelle just stopped answering. She rolls her eyes, just a little, and he gives her a tiny smile back. 

Tony Stark frowns at this exchange, and a couple minutes later, right when she's contemplating getting her phone out again and seeing what books she has loaded on it, he says, "Ms. Owens. Can I talk to you?" 

"Sure." She stands up and follows him into another room--cabin? Is it cabin on a plane?--where there are snacks and drinks laid out. Her stomach gives an embarrassing rumble. She didn't have time to grab breakfast before they got on the plane. 

"Please help yourself," Mr. Stark says. She's not going to stuff her face while he talks to her--though she certainly will after he says whatever it is he's going to say--but she compromises and pours herself a coffee. 

"Thanks," she says and takes a sip. It's really good coffee, no surprises there. 

He just watches her for a second, dark eyes sharp and no doubt taking in her every detail. She lifts an eyebrow. It's doubtless a pale shadow of Natasha's eyebrow raise, but she's working with what she's got.

"Can I speak to you frankly?" 

She takes another sip of her coffee. "I didn't get the impression you spoke any other way."

He barks a short laugh. "Fair enough. You seem like you have a pretty good head on your shoulders. You're really buddies with the Manchurian candidate out there?"

Janelle stiffens, automatically ready to go to bat. "Yes. James is my friend. For over a year now." 

There's something a little bitter about the smile twisting his lips. "You have to understand, the most I knew about him before all this was that he beat the shit out of Cap."

She shifts uncomfortably. "Yeah, I heard about that too. But he didn't have a whole lot of choice about it."

"You know about everything else he did?" 

"I...doubt it? He told me he did a lot of terrible things between 1945 and 2011, but I didn't ask for details." His eyebrows have drawn together and he's chewing on his bottom lip. "Look, Mr. Stark, if you're thinking of telling me something specific, please don't. I'm here for my friend who's been here for me over the last year and a half, and who didn't choose to tell me about any of this. And, you know, maybe he would have someday, but now that choice is gone." She meets Stark's eyes. "All I know is the person he is now, not the person he was forced to be then, and I'd rather keep it that way unless he decides otherwise."

"You really don't want to know." It sounds like a statement, but it feels like a question. Pushing. 

"Not unless he wants to tell me. Otherwise it's just yet another chip at his autonomy, isn't it?" 

Stark's eyebrows fly up at that. "All right. So tell me what it is you like about this guy." He must see her incredulous look because he adds, "I'm trying to understand from someone who's not as hopelessly biased as Steve." 

"Okay." She rotates the coffee mug in her hand, thinking. She's never tried to put into words what she likes about James before. "So, even before I knew anything about what was going on with him, he was new in town, and it seemed like he was trying to figure things out through some of the books we read. And then we started spending more time together outside of Book Club. He looked out for me when I was down, and asked for help when he needed it, and...he's trying, you know? He's got a whole boatload of shit to work through, and he's trying." She takes another sip of her coffee. "Also, sometimes you just click with people, right? He's my friend."

"Okay," says Stark.

"Okay?" 

"Yeah. You've given me a lot to think about. Thanks. Help yourself to the buffet, the blintzes are divine. We've got a few hours till we reach London." He's already walking back into the other cabin. "You can call me Tony." 

"And you can call me Janelle," she says to the door swinging closed. Oh, well. She helps herself to a pastry and the charcuterie plate. She's hungry, and she's on her way to Europe on Actual Tony Stark's dime. 

Best to be prepared for whatever she'll find when they get there.

*

They are almost to London when Stark corners Bucky as he's getting one more cup of coffee before landing. Steve, Nat, and Janelle are all conferring quietly in the main cabin, and Bucky had thought Stark was on his phone. But instead, he appears as Bucky is pondering the merits of Kona coffee, gives him an intent look, and says, "Barnes." 

 _Fuck_. Bucky didn't ever think he would miss the stupid nicknames Stark bestows upon him at every opportunity, but...it would be preferable. "Stark," he says cautiously. 

"Look, I--" Stark has always had a remarkably elastic face, so Bucky isn't bothered when it twists up into a grimace. "I can't say I forgive you for what you did to my parents." Bucky's stomach drops, but Stark's not done. "You did it, but you didn't do it, you know? Steve showed me your file. You're not the person I'd need to blame. It wasn't your hands on the trigger, or--it was your hands on the trigger, but you weren't aiming the gun. Or--you know what? This analogy needs work. Whatever. Do you know who sent you? Do you know why?" 

Bucky shakes his head. He wishes he could give this to Stark. He wishes he knew whether it would help. "Pierce probably gave the order, but they never told me why, and if they did, they lied. You don't bother explaining to a machine."

"Jesus." Stark throws his head back, rolls his shoulders. "We're good," he says.

"We're...good? Just like that?"

"You know what? I was captured in Afghanistan. They tortured me. I got some body modifications I hadn't planned on either." He taps his chest where the ARC reactor used to live. "I'm not thrilled about you offing my folks, but I get what you went through more than I want to. And it seems like your friends think pretty highly of who you are now, so...we're good, Terminator. I'll help you out if I can." 

Bucky inhales as best he can around his thumping heart, trying to make his chest big enough for the feelings there, the possibility of absolution for the things his hands have done. His voice is not even close to steady when he says, "Thank you." 

Stark pops open a pair of sunglasses and slides them on. "You're welcome. You better grab that coffee if you want time to drink it before we land." 

He leaves Bucky alone; a kindness, to give him time to collect himself. He can't say he regrets Howard and Maria more than anyone else; he has discussed this with Dr. Goldstein and to try to apply an order of worse to worst to his list of crimes is counterproductive. But until they sent him to kill Steve, it was the most personal of his horrors. He never thought that he would be able to have the conversation he just had with Tony Stark. 

He is grateful for it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Bucky actually have a lot in common when you think about it.
> 
> Also, I am on [the tumblrs](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/deisderium) enjoying quality gifs of Bucky flipping that motorcycle should you wish to say hi.


	4. Falling's Just Like Flying Till You Land

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zemo shows up. Things move toward resolution.

Janelle skates through customs despite her formerly-expired passport. Natasha hands it over as they begin their descent and smiles at Janelle's expression when as near as she can tell, it's suddenly up to date and shows no signs of being altered. She suspects that Stark's--Tony's--money has greased the wheels as well as whatever Natasha did to her documentation, because they move through all the checkpoints much faster than the regular line. She doesn't see what name James's passport is under, but she suspects it's not his own. 

In record time, they're in a pewter-gray SUV maneuvering through the London streets. There are enough rows that everyone has a window seat, and Janelle cranes her head unabashedly, trying to take in as much as she can. This isn't exactly a pleasure trip, but maybe they'll get a chance to look around? She doesn't know when or if she'll ever get back here. 

She amuses herself watching the scenery, and if her companions think she's gauche for rubbernecking, she's too busy doing it to care. It's evening here, where it would be lunchtime at home, and cooler, and the sky is a cloudy gray tinged with pink. It even smells different; nothing she can put her finger on immediately, but another way in which This Is Not Home. If she thinks about how long the streets they're driving over have been there, she gets a little swoop of vertigo. Even the buildings she thinks of as old at home would be practically new here.

Their driver pulls up in front of a sand-colored stone building that is one of a row of extremely fancy buildings. A flag she doesn't recognize flies next to the door. James's hands are gloved and the hood of his jacket pulled up, but she can see he's paler than usual. She slides up next to him so she can bump into him with her shoulder, and is rewarded with a wan smile. She wishes she could tell him it's going to be okay, but the most she can do is just be here.

The five of them blob up the steps to the door. Natasha rings the doorbell, which is right next to a heavy brass plaque that reads WAKANDAN EMBASSY.

A tall, beautiful, bald woman opens the door. She is wearing red leather armor that stands out against her dark skin and looks impossibly dangerous and cool. Janelle wonders if she can talk her into taking a picture later. "Ah, Ms. Romanova." Her eyes flick over the rest of them. Janelle doesn't doubt she's taking in every detail. "His majesty is expecting you." Janelle has never heard a Wakandan accent before. 

The woman leads them through a reception office, past a courtyard with a fountain, and into a conference room with a floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the courtyard. A man is waiting for them, standing at the head of his table with his hands clasped behind his back. He's wearing a high-necked black shirt with silver embroidery around the collar and he projects quiet authority. This is, she realizes, the king, T'Challa.

While Janelle is quietly panicking over how she's supposed to address foreign royalty, the king speaks. "When I told you, Ms. Romanova, that I would not wait for the task force to address the matter of the Winter Soldier, I did not expect you to bring him to me." 

"I brought him because I know you to be fair," Natasha says. "We have proof that whoever was behind the UN bombing, it wasn't this man."

"I'm listening," the king says. 

"For the last nineteen months, the man at one time known as the Winter Soldier has been living in a small town in the United States," Steve says. "On Wednesday, he was there, not in Vienna." 

"We have phone records, emails, doctor's appointments...all timestamped and marked with locations," Natasha said. "We also have the records of what was done to this man to turn him into the Winter Soldier." Natasha set a stack of documents on the glossy conference table.

"My people will take a look at this. They will be able to tell if this is faked." The king flips the corners of the file with his thumb. Janelle tries not to look too closely, but she can see a picture of James, his eyes closed, tinted blue. 

"Understood," Natasha says briskly. "We also brought the friend he was with when the story broke on the news." 

"Even my jet couldn't have gotten from Vienna to North Carolina in under an hour, and he didn't have access to my jet," Tony says. King T'Challa hmmms thoughtfully. 

"James was at my apartment when the news broke." Janelle clears her throat as they all look at her. "He was coming over to eat and we ended up seeing the story unfold. I mean, I'm not psychic, but he seemed pretty surprised." _Devastated_ would maybe be a better way to put it, but she doesn't want to seem overdramatic. 

"How do you know him?" T'Challa asks, so she runs through the last year and a half once again. By the end of it, he looks at James more thoughtfully. 

"And you," he addresses James directly, "have been doing nothing in a small town? No assisting Captain America? No revenge on the people who did this to you?" 

Steve swells up, visibly seething with indignation, but James puts a hand on his arm and Steve subsides. "No," he says. "I've had enough. I wanted an end to that. A chance to be a normal person. Doing normal things, with friends." He tilts his head toward Janelle. "So thanks for that." Janelle's heart feels extremely squishy at the moment.

T'Challa taps the file. "You have not let vengeance consume you. I will not let it consume me either. But if all you say is true, then my father's killer is still free." 

"As it happens," Natasha says, "we have some thoughts in that direction." 

*

Janelle is charmed as all get out by the Tower ravens. They're so big. There are crows in her neighborhood at home, but they're small compared to these guys. 

"Look at them!" she whispers to James and Steve. She doesn't know why she's whispering. The ravens clearly don't care. The place is packed full of tourists and no one else is bothering to keep their voice down.

"I am looking at them," James whispers back. "They're birds." 

"They're very historical birds," Janelle says. "And they're cute." 

She catches James and Steve smiling at each other out of the corner of her eye. Everything has a layer of ridiculousness to it that it usually doesn't because a) they're in London, b) she's tired because her body refused to acknowledge that time zones are a thing, so she didn't sleep much last night, and c) the guys' idea of a disguise is pretty funny. They're both wearing ballcaps and glasses--Steve a pair with non-prescription lenses, James a pair of sunglasses--and layers "to blur their body shapes," James had said, which, good luck, fellas, y'all are built pretty distinctively. James hasn't shaved in a couple of days and Natasha applied an amazing fake pornstache to Steve's upper lip. Janelle is having a really difficult time looking at him, and James has flat-out refused to kiss him until it comes off. They've had an hour and a half to play tourists at the Tower; it's not nearly enough time, but Janelle is grateful that they got to do this. 

Tony, Natasha, and T'Challa are coming to pick them up and take them to a city to be decided, somewhere on the same continent ("As if I couldn't be anywhere in the world in three days," James had muttered) where there's going to be a public sighting of James with Steve, sans mustache, chasing him down. Pulling the string, as Natasha put it, to see what comes chasing it. 

Of course, the problem with this plan is that James is wanted for terrorism. T'Challa has been pulling strings of his own to get a Wakandan strike force on site rather than a task force from any other country. Apparently there are kill on sight orders for the Winter Soldier. Janelle had to take a moment when the bald badass woman, Okoye (a general! Janelle has added Wakanda to the list of places she wants to visit), had told them that last night. No wonder James sticks close to home. Everything else everywhere is out to get him. So the kill order is bad for James, sure, but, and she hadn't considered this either, _also_ bad for whoever they send after him. 

As Tony had said, with perhaps less than maximum tact, "He took down Cap. Special Forces don't stand a chance." 

Steve's phone buzzes. "Our ride's here," he says. Janelle and James both stare, mesmerized by the way his mustache moves, and then Janelle shakes it off and tells the ravens goodbye. One quorks back at her and she decides it's a positive sign. They take off toward the Tower bridge and meet Tony and Natasha in the pewter SUV. 

"We're headed to Bucharest," Natasha says as she applies some kind of solvent to Steve's upper lip. "I've seeded the city with a couple of tips that someone spotted a dark-haired man with a metal arm, so our guy should have plenty of time to get there." 

"After that, we're going to have to play it by ear," Tony says. "Our next step is going to heavily depend on what happens there. T'Challa's got his forces ready to go and ready to pull rank on whoever else shows up. Murderbot and Capsicle do their part and we see what happens." Janelle bites her bottom lip. She has questions, but she's not sure if she gets to ask them. She's not an Avenger; she's just James's friend, somehow along for the ride.

"It's not as vague as some of the plans we've had." Steve pokes his upper lip, returned to its normally-hairless glory. 

 "Where will Janelle be?" James says. "She doesn't need to be anywhere near this." 

"Janelle will be with me," Natasha says. "We're going to run comms on this one. Tony'll be in the suit, just in case you need back up." 

James blows out a sharp breath. "All right," he says. "I'm ready." 

*

It's amazing how fast you can get places when you have a shitload of money and a private jet. It seems like hardly any time at all before they're landing in Henri Coandă International Airport. Janelle has the feeling this trip has ruined her for normal travel. It can't possibly all go as smoothly as this. 

There's yet another sleek car waiting for them at the airport. The driver passes out bottled water while Natasha unfolds two laptops and a tablet and gets them set up how she likes them. Tony mumbles into a bluetooth earpiece, eyes flicking across the back of his sunglasses like there's a screen on them, which...she wouldn't be surprised. They park near a big train station. Steve changed on the plane, and he shucks his sweater and pulls on a jacket-- _the_ jacket, the Kevlar one with the star on it--over his tiny compression shirt, straps it to his pants somehow, buckles on a utility belt like he's the goddamn Batman, and pulls the cowl on. James helps him get into the shield harness and do up whatever buckles and doohickeys need to be dealt with down his back. Janelle is possibly having an out of body experience as she watches the guy she knows transform into Captain Fucking America; she knew Steve was Cap but it's different seeing it happen right in front of her. 

"Everyone got comms?" Natasha says. Steve taps his cowl. James and Tony hook little wiggly things over their ears. Natasha already has hers in. Janelle just watches, still trying to process all of this. "All right," Natasha adds, pointing at James. "Make sure they know it's you." 

He grimaces, but pulls off his jacket and hat and removes his gloves, flexing his metal hand. Natasha looks him over. "Go big or go home, James." 

"Fine," he mutters, and yanks off his red henley as well. Underneath is a charcoal-gray long-sleeved t-shirt. Janelle spends a moment wondering how much deodorant he goes through if he wears this many layers all the time in _June_ , but Natasha just nods approvingly and rucks his sleeves up. His shiny metal forearm seems to draw the light. 

"Yeah, that ought to do it," Tony mutters. 

James takes a deep breath, tugs his sleeves back down, and glances at Steve, who nods back at him. "Give me ninety seconds." James says, and slinks out of the car into the train station. Janelle has noticed before that he can make himself startlingly small for such a big man; it turns out he can also be surprisingly unnoticeable. She's watching him and her eyes just kind of slide away. 

Natasha has him on camera, though, tracking him on one of the laptops. They follow him as he gets into position--a crowded platform in the station--and he waits, very still, for about a minute. Then he rolls up his sleeves like Natasha directed and walks into the crowd. He's moving very differently than he did before, very differently from any walk Janelle has ever seen out of him. The only word she can think to describe this gait is _swagger_. He's all hips and shoulders and looks dangerous even without any visible weapons--besides the arm, of course. The crowd agrees; they scatter, some talking into their phones, some trying to get video. 

"All right, gentlemen, you're up," Natasha says, and Steve is out of the car and sprinting toward the station with the shield strapped over his back before Janelle can blink. Tony follows at a more sedate pace, phone held close to his face, presumably ready to spring into action if need be. He closes the door Steve left open, and Natasha angles the laptop so Janelle can watch, too. 

"Now we just wait and see who shows up," Natasha murmurs. "Will they try to apprehend him, or let the Wakandans do it and show up later? That'll tell us a lot about how they're operating." Well, it'll tell Natasha a lot about how they're operating, Janelle supposes. 

On the laptop, Captain America confronts James on the platform, and they take off running. The chase leads them out of the train station and into the streets. "This gets them in front of a lot of CCTV cameras," Natasha says. "We have to assume that whoever's trying to set James up has been waiting for this." 

Wakandan forces have set up in a square, and the chase leads right to them. (Well, of course, Janelle thinks, since they planned it that way.) The Wakandan troops are a revelation in and of themselves: a squad of women like Okoye (Wakanda is looking better and better all the time), with Iron Man hovering above. They surround James and Steve and take them into custody. 

"Now what?" Janelle asks. 

"Now we see who follows the thread," Natasha says. 

The Wakandans take the prisoners to their embassy in Bucharest, and Natasha and Janelle follow. When they get there, James is being held in a separate room, which is distressing to Janelle, but he is supposed to be a prisoner, so. Natasha takes her laptops and sets up a monitoring station in a room to the side of the makeshift jail cell. Janelle, Tony, Steve, and T'Challa end up waiting with her, watching various encrypted communications decode on one screen, and a camera on James and one on the street on the other.

Not twenty minutes later, a man presents himself at the door. He's white, so he's unlikely to be a Wakandan citizen, and he's wearing a suit and holding a folder. Natasha's brow wrinkles. "That was fast. He's a psychiatrist from the UN, come to evaluate James."

"Documentation?" T'Challa asks. 

"I see international, inter-agency messages," Natasha says. "From Ross, for starters."

Over the camera, they watch Okoye lead the man to the room where James is being kept. James's wrists are restrained. The man starts talking through a speaker in the shatterproof glass. 

"Okoye says he is speaking Russian," T'Challa reports suddenly. 

"Fuck." Steve takes off running. The rest of them follow, Natasha with a laptop still tucked under her elbow. 

By the time they get there, Steve has the man restrained. James is holding his cuffed wrists in front of him and talking through the speaker. "It's okay, Steve! I'm fine. Dr. Goldstein and I cracked this a year ago. They're just words now. It's all right."

Steve looks like he wants to feed this guy his own guts, but his shoulders relax a little when he sees James is okay. The guy he's holding struggles in his grip, but Steve's not letting him go anywhere.

"He faked the emails as well as his ID to make himself look legit," Natasha says, looking at the laptop, reluctant admiration in her tone. "You're very good, Mr.--" 

"Zemo," the man spits. "You will know my name."

Then he catches sight of Tony, and his face transforms with a terrible glee that makes Janelle take a step back, though it's not directed at her. "Ah, Mr. Stark," and his voice has transformed too, smoother and more confident. Whatever is happening now, he thinks he has the upper hand. Janelle just hopes he's wrong. "Don't you want to know what kind of monster your friend is protecting?" He pulls a tablet with a video on it out of his pocket, pushes play, and slides it along the floor toward Tony. Janelle sees something in Cyrillic and a date: 1991, then trees and a road. "An empire toppled by its enemies can rise again. But one which topples from within, that's dead forever."

Tony has gone very pale, but he leans down, picks up the tablet, and taps it until the video stops playing. Zemo looks confused. "I hear what you're saying, Mastermind, but I don't need to see that. Cap and Robocop over there already told me about it and we had a little kumbaya and worked our feelings out, so...thanks for trying to pick a fight, I guess?" 

T'Challa pads forward soundlessly. "Let me be sure I am clear. You bombed the UN, killing my father, and framed the Winter Soldier...to turn these two against each other?" He waves from Tony to Steve.

"That seems like about the long and short of it," Natasha says over Zemo's splutters of outrage. "I'm sure you have a tragic backstory, but you've kind of fallen off whatever moral high ground you were standing on." 

Okoye opens the door to the room Bucky is in and unlocks the cuffs around his hands. Steve is immediately next to him, making sure he's okay. 

T'Challa turns to James. "Thank you for your help--for all of your help. I would have hurt the wrong man for vengeance. This way, there will be justice for my father's murderer, not just revenge." 

Tony hums thoughtfully. "Justice sounds good. That guy's an asshole. Hey, does anyone want to try sarmale with me? I've heard you can get great sarmale in Bucharest."

"What's sarmale?" Steve asks.

"Let's go find out," Tony says.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you ever wondered how Cap gets into his uniform? I really hadn't thought about it, but[ thankfully there's tumblr.](http://nanoochka.tumblr.com/post/173554711560/how-do-you-undress-captain-rogers-his-uniform)
> 
> Google tells me that [sarmale](https://whereismyspoon.co/sarmale-traditional-romanian-cabbage-rolls-with-pork-and-rice/) are a traditional Romanian dish, and that they are stuffed cabbage rolls.


	5. It's Not a Perfect World, But I'm Told There's No Such Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janelle, James, et al enjoy the denouement.
> 
> There are significant spoilers for Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett's _Good Omens_ in this chapter.

Janelle has to call in sick again on Monday. The alternative is calling in Avengers, and she's not sure her boss will buy that one. 

The Zemo situation was pretty much all taken care of Saturday morning, besides some pesky jurisdiction issues that are T'Challa's problem, not Janelle's, so she's not worrying about it. Zemo's confession has been playing on the news, so the Winter Soldier is cleared of at least the bombing in Vienna. The Avengers (and Janelle) tell T'Challa and Okoye goodbye and thanks for the assist, but then T'Challa thanks them again, individually and Janelle specifically, which is a lot to take in, but she manages to play it at least a little cool. Cool-ish. Not visibly freaking out, hopefully. At that point they seem ready to head back to the States. But then the Avengers learn that it's her first time overseas, and look, they could have gone straight home, but they don't. 

("I've been to Mexico," Janelle says indignantly. "That's international."

"I said overseas, Evie O'Connell, not international," Tony says. "Mexico doesn't count."  

Janelle stares. "I'm not actually a librarian." 

"First book nerd character I thought of," Tony says airily. "I'll keep working on it.")

"Take an extra day," Natasha says. "You helped prevent an international incident. If you need a doctor's excuse for work, I can get you a really convincing one."

First, they try sarmale, which as it happens, are delicious. Then they try what Janelle can only describe as little meat sticks served with mustard, then some kind of cheese and sour cream polenta, then some kind of pork that's clearly cousin to bacon. Turns out this crew can put away snacks even when the Avenging comes off with minimal fighting. Then again, she's seen how James and Steve can eat when they've been doing nothing more strenuous than watching a movie on her sofa, so she shouldn't be surprised. 

They walk around Bucharest for a while, see a couple of sights, then take the jet back to London, where Tony checks them into the Four Seasons. Janelle fully expects to share a room, but nope. She gets her own. The only people sharing a room are the two that want to. 

Janelle is looking at the room service menu and wondering a) whether her bank account can handle a burger or something and b) how she can possibly want to eat after gorging herself on swineflesh in Bucharest, when a knock interrupts her. 

"Can I come in?" James asks when she opens the door. 

"Sure." She waves an expansive hand. "Mi amazing overpriced luxury hotel room es tu amazing overpriced luxury hotel room." 

James shuts the door behind him. "I just wanted to make sure you're okay after everything." 

"You know what? I really am. We found the bad guy and stopped his bullshit plan and nobody got hurt. Not even the bad guy." She thinks a minute longer. "And...the world knows you weren't in Vienna, and that's huge." 

James gives her a smile that puts happy wrinkles around his eyes. Janelle gives into temptation and hugs him. He's going home again, and so is she. 

"So there's this place me and Steve used to go," James says once they've pulled apart. "During the war. It's still there. Want to grab something to eat?" And that sounds better than even a Four Seasons room service burger, so she does. 

The place James and Steve used to go is a pub-slash-restaurant with wooden walls and low ceilings, and Natasha and Tony come too, and they all eat too much food (again), and Tony pays (again), and James and Steve share stories about the war, but good stories--not the awful kind she's sure they both have plenty of, but stories about the Commandos and Peggy Carter, and one about a cow they found in the middle of a battle that has Natasha snort-laughing, which is a memory that Janelle will cherish. They go back to the hotel, full and happy, and Janelle falls into her turned-down bed and sleeps like the dead until sunshine coming in the window wakes her up. 

Sunday is the day that in a logical world, they would have taken the jet home, but instead, they go to the National Gallery and listen to Steve enthuse from Giotto to Cézanne, then to Picadilly Circus, and Trafalagar Square, and Covent Garden, and by the end of the day, Janelle's feet are sore, but it's worth it. Tony has found a restaurant called the Book Club, and they take a very late lunch or a very early dinner as he smirks from Janelle to James, obviously pleased with himself. 

They pass a Waterstones on the way back to the hotel, and Janelle ducks in because she wants to read a book on the plane, and while she already has a copy of _Good Omens_ at home, she doesn't mind having another--she's lost two copies to lending them out over the years anyway. And then James picks up a copy, and then Steve picks up a copy, and then Tony frowns and gets two more for him and Natasha so they won't be left out, and that's how they're all reading the same book on the jet on Monday. 

"So about the Sokovia Accords," Tony says after they've all eaten a lunch which by far surpasses any airplane food Janelle's ever had. Natasha marks her place with a finger and levels a look at him.

"I don't know, Tony," Steve says. "I'm not intrinsically opposed to some kind of oversight, but I'm not sure I trust anyone more than I trust us. The Accords as written don't give us much of a say in how we're deployed. I'd want us to have much more of a voice in them instead of turning it all over to whoever the UN deems fit." 

"The good thing about having been in front of more Congressional committees than I care to think about is that I have the contact details of an assload of lawyers. Pepper's hired a battalion of them to go through the paperwork with a fine-toothed comb. I told Ross we won't sign unless we can all agree that it's fair." 

Steve nods slowly. "That sounds...really good actually." 

"What's the point of having this much money if you're not going to occasionally use it for something sensible?" Tony snags another croque monsieur off the rapidly-diminishing platter. 

Natasha nods and opens her book back to her place. James never looked up from his. 

*

Tuesday morning, Janelle feels as flat as a pancake. Her alarm goes off, she moans and slides it to snooze, but then her phone buzzes again. She fumbles at the screen and sees texts from her boss.

Boss Lady: your doctor's office called. please don't come in until tomorrow. 

Boss Lady: seriously, keep your germs at home.  hope you feel better.

Janelle squints at it, turns her alarm off, and goes back to sleep. 

Later, when she's awake and has had her second cup of coffee, she hits reply to the text from Unknown Number (which she's saved under the spider emoji):

_ty for ur help with work_

_my jetlag and i appreciate it_

Somewhat to her surprise, it goes through, and a minute later, she gets a reply.

Unknown Number: :spider emoji: ty for YOUR help with MY work over the weekend

Unknown Number: we appreciate you

 _Huh_ , she thinks, and wonders if it's possible to print out a text and keep in her wallet to pull out and look at on days when she's not feeling that great.

*

 _Good Omens_ was Kimiko's pick--it's not that she _only_ picks Neil Gaiman books, it's just that he's her favorite author and she seems determined to eventually make Book Club read them all--so she starts off the discussion. When everyone has sufficiently enthused over the friendship between Crowley and Aziraphale, and the Chattering Order and the Witchfinders, Janelle brings out the second round of snacks and leans back in her chair. 

"My favorite part was when Agnes decided that she wasn't going to be a descendant forever," Danika says. "It felt very freeing for her to choose her own path." 

"It was like that for Adam, too," James says quietly. "He had this destiny, this chance to order the world how he wanted it, and instead he chose to make his own life." 

Janelle meets his gaze across the room. "Self-determination was a theme for a lot of the characters. I liked that too." 

And then Priya brings up Dog, and Miriam starts laughing about the Four Bikers of the Apocalypse, and the moment passes. 

Later, when everyone's gone, Janelle flips through her copy of the book and finds a passage she underlined. She snaps a pic and sends it to James. After only a few seconds to read it, he replies.

Book Club James: I'm glad you're on my side. 

* * *

> "Don't see why you have to take sides,"  said Wensleydale.
> 
> "Of course I have to take sides," said Pepper. "Everyone has to take sides in something."
> 
> Adam appeared to reach a decision. "Yes. But I reckon you can make your own side." 
> 
> \-- _Good Omens_ , Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnnnnd that's Civil War, book club style! This is not the end of Book Club--there are still books I want Bucky to read, Studio Ghibli he and Steve need to watch, Nat now has Janelle's phone number, and I realized writing this that I want Bucky to meet Wanda and Pietro, so if that sounds good to you, watch this space (eventually). (Or in the words of the Marvel post credit scenes, Book Club Will Return.)
> 
> I can't tell you how much I've appreciated the kudos and the very kind comments about a world of Avengers who talk through conflicts for this version of CW. Thank you! <3 <3 <3 
> 
> The story about the cow that Steve and Bucky talk about is a reference to [The Not-Christmas Not-Truce of 1944](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3491189) by dropdeaddream, which if you haven't read it is hilarious.
> 
> [The Book Club](http://www.wearetbc.com/about-us/) is an actual restaurant/event space in London that has book reading and poetry slams and such.


End file.
